Lost
by MaySoFarAway
Summary: Songfic one-shot. Agents Hill, Sitwell, and Lewis tell Phil Coulson just how much they're not a fan of his current state. Friendship-fic.


((Another songfic. This one to Lost, by Amanda Palmer. PHEELS! Maybe a little AU, as far as Darcy getting cherry-picked for SHIELD right away.))

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Lost

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Agent Maria Hill is a confident woman. She's worked damn hard to get to where she is, second in command at SHIELD. She half-bosses Nick Fury around, and she's also bossing around the Avengers now, that's not a job that just any Agent gets.

And Hill knows she'd be nowhere near where she is without Phil Coulson. He fought for her, when she didn't yet have the voice in SHIELD to fight for herself. She likes to think that her workplace is pretty enlightened, but still, a woman has to be an amazon to get ahead anywhere. Hill has always been an amazon. Coulson just made sure that everyone saw that, knew that about her.

He watched her throughout her training, plucking her out of the myriad of hopefuls for top analyst. After that, Hill had made her own way. Her voice, her attitude, her drive had been on display for all to see. She knew she'd have never gotten there, though, without the one man who'd seen that spark, who'd believed in her when no one else did.

"Don't you dare let go," She whispers, as she clutches his hand in the infirmary, the beeping of the machines that keep him alive their only intruder, "...I don't know how to do this without you," Her voice, always so sure, so steady, cracks at this, ducking her head, "...Phil you fought for me. Fight again, okay?" Maria drops her forehead to his, taking in a deep breath.

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"I really don't know how to handle all this alone," Agent Sitwell sighs, cleaning his glasses on his pristine shirt. He's looking at Agent Phil Coulson, as he lies in his hospital bed, machines doing most of his breathing for him. "I mean. I know what I need to do, but..." Sitwell lets out a long, weary breath, "...You had much more of a stomach for this nonsense, Phil," Sitwell gulps, shaking his head slightly, eyes on the far wall of the infirmary, "Now they're looking at me, as if I'm you. How do I handle that?"

He winces, giving his bed-ridden, former handler anguished eyes, as if the comatose man will offer him some resolution. Nothing. Only the machines, pressing his breath in and out, while doctors hope that their science can mend his punctured lung, severed artery, before his feeble flesh gives up the ghost.

But no, Sitwell thinks. Phil is anything but feeble. Phil Coulson is a freakin' ninja, the envy of SHIELD and everything that an agent strives to be. Legend says he once bested a would-be robber with a bag of flour. While Sitwell would've questioned that mightily, had he not seen the actual report, his respect for this man runs deep. Even with the odds that the doctors have been giving Fury, he hasn't lost faith. Agent Sitwell believes in Coulson, to the ends of the earth. And even more? He needs him.

"Please..." The agent swallows, hard, "Please come back and tell me what to do."

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Darcy Lewis had been snatched up by SHIELD almost as soon as she graduated. Mind, having half of her thesis blacked out by the government had been a bump in the road. But one visit to the Dean at Culver by one Agent Phil Coulson, and she'd been cleared. More than that, she'd been offered a job as an analyst. Darcy had questioned this mightily, staring her iPod-thief in the eye for a long moment, before tilting her head, seeing only honest belief in his face. "...Okay, I'll bite."

And he'd looked out for her. Combat training had been her personal hell, but it was Coulson, chuckling, off to the side of the gym who told her "You tased a god, Agent Lewis. You can run a measly three miles." Darcy had stuck out her tongue at him.

"I could be huddled around a space-heater in Tromso right now!" She grinned, but had kept running. Darcy had never run. She'd never toughed out a stint at a gym, until Coulson had told her that he believed in her. And he did, she saw that all over his supposedly-stoic face. He really wasn't as taciturn as people thought, she was learning. Coulson's poker-face was amazing, but it wasn't completely coded. He saw something in her, clearly.

Which is why, after a long night of drinking, losing and finding her wallet, and crying at a Bronx bartender, Darcy finds herself in his hospital room at midnight, on a friday. "Thing is," She wobbles, grasping his hand, "...I don't know how to finish this without you," Darcy admits, slurring her words but completely honest, "I don't have Jane anymore, or Thor really, the only person I had telling me I could do more was you...so please," Her voice breaks, hiccuping, clutching his hand to her chest, "Dude, I need you, I need you so bad you don't even know, you freakin' creepy man in black. Tell me I can do this, tell me..."

"Of course you can do this..." He rasps, and Darcy almost drops his hand in shock, as he opens his eyes, turning to look at her, "You're amazing, Agent Lewis. You all are."

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End file.
